


UNDERGROUND

by Mikkeneko



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Mage Rights, Templar Carver Hawke, brief mentioned Hawke/Anders, cameo mage bbs from another series, or Mage Fights, the Mage Underground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders has a close brush with Carver Hawke, Templar-in-training, in a professional capacity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	UNDERGROUND

 

The stretch of sewer tunnels between Darktown and the docks was the most dangerous, which was why Anders had volunteered to take it. It was the only route to move mages liberated from the Gallows up through the city to where they could be smuggled out under the city walls, but it wasn't as though the entire labyrinthine tunnel complex could be kept a secret. There were multiple entrances down into the tunnels from Darktown, and back towards the cliffs it bled into the natural caverns under Kirkwall, which meant that at any time the tunnels could be filled with giant spiders, gang members, or even darkspawn.

Or Templars. 

Anders led the way; he knew the route by heart, so the magefire he held aloft over his shoulder was for the benefit of the two apprentices stumbling along in his wake. They were still only children -- the older boy no more than twelve, the younger girl even less than that -- and Anders didn't know why the Underground had made it an emergency priority to get them out of the Gallows on a day's notice. He hadn't asked. He didn't care. All mages deserved to be out from under the Circle's thumb, especially the children. 

At the other end of the route there was a wagon waiting to take them safely out of Kirkwall -- maybe to Wildervale, where the Mage's Collective had a strong presence. Again, Anders hadn't asked; in this business it was better for everyone not to know all the details. 

They stopped for a break at the halfway point; their time window was limited, but the apprentices simply couldn't keep up the punishing pace that a full-grown man -- let alone a healer, let alone a Warden -- could keep up all night. He settled the two of them in a relatively dry and sheltered nook in the sewer, and doled out water and cookies. 

The boy had black hair, the girl cinnamon-brown, but the family resemblance was clear in their chubby faces. Even if it hadn't been, Anders probably still could have guessed by the way the older boy tried to press half of his food on the girl. "Uh-uh," he said quietly, closing his hand over the boy's and pushing it back towards his chest. "That's for you. It's good that you want to take care of your sister, but you need to keep up your own strength." 

The kid scowled at him, surprisingly intimidating despite his youth. "I can keep going," he said defiantly. 

"That's good to hear, because we've got a ways to go yet," Anders said with a smile. "Listen... sorry, I didn't get your name..." 

"Toya," the boy said. 

"Listen, Toya," Anders started over. "When we get to the other end of the tunnel, there will be plenty of food and a place you can both rest, but there's still quite a lot of walking to do before then. About as far again as we've already come." 

The little girl let out a pitiful moan, and Toya's scowl deepened. "What if she can't walk that far?" he objected. 

"If it comes to it, I can carry her," Anders allowed. "But that's all the more reason why you have to stay on your feet, all right? Let's get moving." 

A small rejuvenation spell helped to get the apprentices on their feet, and they set off again. It wasn't as much rest as they needed, but Anders felt the inexorable pressure of time.  The tunnel they'd been taking ran on for a hundred more feet before it emptied into a wider one, a four-way intersection of underground streets. Anders led the way with his magelight, stepping into the junction and scanning the tunnels in both directions before he beckoned the children to follow. 

The crush of a silence hit him, momentarily blinding and deafening all thought, at the same instant the mage-light went out. Anders' reflexes took over and he threw himself backwards into the shelter of the tunnel, grabbing an apprentice in each hand. Thank the Maker, neither one of them cried out; they'd been in the Circle long enough to learn that, at least. 

After a few seconds the deafening nothingness began to clear, and Anders scrabbled backwards along the tunnel, dragging the apprentices with him into the pitiful concealment offered by their sheltered nook. It would do them no good, he knew, if they'd already been seen; that scouring blast of magic could only have been cast by a Templar, and if the Templars had seen them... 

If a Templar had seen them, then why stop there? Anders knew the drill, knew it by heart. The Silence should have been immediately followed by a Smite, however many it took to get the mage on the ground and keep them there -- or at least a Cleanse to drain him of all his mana. Why hadn't they? 

There it was -- the clanking of plate armor, echoing along the stone tunnels. Anders couldn't imagine how he'd missed it before -- too preoccupied with his charges? That was no excuse, no excuse for his carelessness to get them all killed or captured or worse -- 

But the metallic footsteps were leisurely, unhurried, and the echo of voices accompanied them through the tunnels; not shouting orders or threats, but in casual conversation with each other. This was just a routine patrol, not a hunt or a chase; they hadn't been seen, not yet. 

Then who had cast the Silence? 

Anders lifted his head cautiously, urging the apprentices back against the wall -- it wasn't really a hiding place, mere shadows in the deeper shadows -- and leaned back against the stone as he turned his head down the tunnel to watch the Templar patrol going by. They were carrying their own torches, but his magelight would have been immediately spotted in the darkness of the tunnel. 

Justice seethed in his head, howling to be let out, but Anders held him back -- this was a big patrol, ten men strong, and while they could probably take all of them out, there was no guarantee they would be able to do it while protecting the children. Even if he could, they were just as likely to be frightened off by his monstrous demeanor and run off into the tunnels, losing themselves or being found again by Templars. 

He didn't want this fight. He would do it, if he had to -- but he didn't want to. 

The patrol had half gone by before one armored figure crossed in front of the tunnel, turned its head, and looked right at them. Anders tensed up, Justice roaring forward -- and then stopped, because he recognized that silhouette. It wasn't easy to tell the Templars apart, under the uniforms and the helmets designed to hide their face from the world -- but Anders had gotten in lots of practice, and he'd seen that shape before, dozens of times, walking ahead of him in the party at Hawke's side. 

Carver Hawke. 

For an instant the two of them stared at each other -- he was looking straight at them, there was no way he could not see them, Anders flat against the wall with an apprentice gathered under each arm -- and then Carver turned and walked away. Anders heard a muffled question from the head of the patrol, and a more distinct "All clear, Ser," from Carver in response. "I'll take sweep." 

The clattering continued, the light of the torches playing over the stone walls as the patrol marched on. None of the other Templars turned their heads to look at the back of the side-passage -- those helmets tended to restrict peripheral vision, a fact Anders had made use of many a time. With the side-passage already having been declared clear, none of the rest of the Templars would have reason to look twice. 

Carver Hawke. Anders still couldn't believe it. He had never been on what could be called good terms with Hawke's moody, martial little brother. Not, Anders considered, for lack of trying on his part -- as he'd become more and more enamored of the elder Hawke, he'd made several attempts to reach out to Carver, to bridge the gap between them. 

But Carver would have none of it. There was absolutely nothing about Anders that Carver didn't resent -- his status as a mage, as an apostate, his political views, the way he did his hair. Carver actually had the nerve to accuse Anders of being more dangerous than the Templars -- as though he wasn't fighting just to see mages like Hawke free and safe! 

Eventually he'd given up, and let relations between them fall into bitter spite and acrimony. The final nail in the coffin had been returning from the Deep Roads with Hawke to find Carver had taken off to join the Templars. Hawke had actually _wept_ , once the screaming was over and Carver was gone, wept into Anders' arms while Anders desperately tried to find words of comfort. 

Not that Anders had words to offer. He had no understanding of what could have motivated Carver to offer such a betrayal -- he resented Hawke and despised Anders, but there was a long gap between sibling resentment and actively choosing a life of service to the very institution that had oppressed and abused his family. Anders had been quite ready to write Carver off, figuring he'd found his life's passion in kicking mages in the head. 

Or had Anders misunderstood him all along? 

Only once the last of the Templars had moved on did Anders breathe again, his muscles slowly unlocking; silently, he urged the apprentices further down the tunnel, the two of them taking scared, stumbling steps. There was another route they could take -- slower, more difficult, but it should avoid any chance of the Templars. 

"Hsst!" Anders whirled around, hand going to his staff, at the clatter of plate behind him. But it was only Carver -- Carver, his helmet off and carried under his arm, a scowl on his face. 

Anders hesitated for a moment; part of him wanted to just seize the apprentices and run, leaving Carver behind. But the children couldn't outrun a grown warrior, and not knowing why Carver had done it, he didn't want to do anything to provoke him to take back his unexpected mercy. "Stay here," he whispered to the apprentices, pressing them back as he started forward. 

"He's a Templar!" Toya stepped forward too, hands balled and chin up. "I wanna fight him!" 

Anders was beginning to get an idea of why these two apprentices had needed to be relocated so suddenly. 

"Don't be stupid, you can't fight Templars," he said irritably. "At least not until you're much, much bigger. But I'm not going to fight him anyway, we're just going to talk." 

He gave the boy a firmer shove back, then turned and closed the distance between himself and Carver. The sight of that armor, the Sword of Mercy on the surcoat, still raised the hairs on his arms and made Justice growl within him, even with Carver's ice-blue eyes -- those eyes that ran in the family -- looking out from above them. The scowl, admittedly, was familiar. 

"Do you have any _idea_ how dangerous that was for you?" was the first thing Anders asked when he got within whispering range of the Templar. 

Carver snorted. "That's a fine way to say thanks," he said. "No wonder people are just lining up to do favors for you." 

Anders sighed. "Thank you very much, I owe you big time," he rattled off quickly, "and if you ever try a Silence on me again Justice will probably take your bleeding head off. You should know better -- you've seen what he can do --" 

"Oh, thanks for the reminder of why I ought to be turning you in!" Carver snapped. "I had to do something! Wandering around with that blasted magelight hovering over your head -- you might as well sound a klaxon to every templar in a hundred yard radius. I couldn't risk you or the kids doing something to give yourselves away." 

A sharp retort rose to Anders' lips, and he had to breathe deeply to force it back. He ran a hand over his hair, wiping sweat from his forehead. "What do you want, Carver?" he said wearily. 

"I don't have time -- I've got to catch up to the patrol in a minute but -- listen. We're heading for the East Warehouse district for a sting, then we'll be looping back the same route that we came in. Don't go to the Docks again tonight, and don't use these tunnels again. If..." Carver licked his lips, and his eyes darted from Anders to the tunnel behind him. "If any of your... associates..." 

"Hawke's safe at home and knows _nothing_   of this," Anders interrupted him. "Like I'd risk it." 

Carver slumped in relief, the plate clattering as he moved. "Fine," he said. "I don't care what you do. Just be less blasted careless in the future. I can't get myself included in every surprise patrol." 

He turned to go, clattering in the narrow hallway; he had almost reached the corner when Anders called after him. "Carver..." he said, watching the plated figure hesitate and turn back. "Why? I know you're not doing it for me. And I just told you that Hawke's not involved. So why?" 

Carver scowled at him, and his eyes flicked past Anders again, down the darkened tunnelway towards the two apprentices crouched there. The brother stood in front, fists clenched and eyes full of fire, standing protectively in front of his little sister. Brother and sister, both mages. 

"None of your damned business why," Carver snapped, and slammed his helmet back on his head. He clanked off down the passage, all Templar once again.

  
\---

~the end.


End file.
